Sherrie ‘Sharp-Shooter’'s Arc

Chapter 3 of 13

Sherrie folded the copied list into her jacket pocket and walked back toward the main warehouse. The shipment was due in three hours, coming through the northern route her father had opened fifteen years back. She'd placed the order herself, signed off on the manifest, confirmed the pickup time with the driver she'd worked with for two years. Everything clean, everything routine. But if someone inside was skimming, they'd need access before the shipment reached her dock. They'd need to intercept it somewhere between the pickup point and her gate, pull what they wanted, reseal the crates, and let the driver continue on. That meant the driver was dirty, or someone was hitting the truck mid-route. Either way, she'd know in three hours when the crates came in light again. The call came in ninety minutes early. Her radio crackled with static, then a voice she didn't recognize. The truck wasn't coming. It had been stopped in the old highway tunnel eight miles out, the one that cut through the ridge before the valley opened up to Rust Creek. Sherrie grabbed two of her militia and drove out in the armored truck, pushing hard over the broken road. The tunnel entrance came into view with smoke still rising from inside. She pulled to a stop at the mouth of it, headlights cutting through the haze. The delivery truck sat sideways across both lanes, its front end crushed into the concrete wall, flames chewing through the cab. Crates were scattered across the cracked pavement, most of them smashed open and emptied. The Ravens had painted their mark on the tunnel wall in red spray paint, fresh enough that it was still dripping. Sherrie walked past the burning wreckage and found the driver twenty feet from the truck. What was left of him, anyway. The body had been burned beyond recognition, but they'd left enough behind to make sure she understood. This wasn't an accident. This wasn't a hijacking for profit. The Ravens wanted her to know they'd done it, wanted her to see what happened when she kept running shipments through their territory. She stood over the charred remains and felt something cold settle in her chest. The skimming had been internal, yes. But this was external. Two separate problems, both bleeding her operation at the same time. She radioed back to the warehouse and told them to reroute the next three shipments through the southern pass, the one that added six hours but stayed clear of Raven territory. It would cost her time and fuel, and her father would notice the change in logistics if he looked close enough. But the northern route was gone now. The Ravens had claimed it, and until she dealt with them, every truck she sent through that tunnel would end the same way. She looked at the wreckage one more time, then walked back to her truck. The skimming problem was still inside her organization, waiting to be rooted out. But now she had a second war to fight, and the Ravens had just made it clear they weren't interested in negotiation.